Personal Business
by Ultraviolet-Ink
Summary: The Glee Club that invades personal lives to an unnecessary degree together, stays together. Or something along those lines.


**Disclaimer: Anything recognisable does not belong to me.**

**On another note, I refuse to accept that Sam is no longer in Glee. So, he'll be making the odd appearance. By odd, I mean **

* * *

><p>Kurt collapsed back on the bed next to Blaine, laughing breathlessly as he said,<p>

"Wow, Blaine, that was... That was amazing." Blaine whimpered incoherently in response. "Come again?"

"I don't think I'll be able to... Ever," Blaine said slowly; Kurt swatted him ineffectually on the arm.

"You have just spoilt my post-orgasm bliss, you idiot." Blaine opened his arms, and Kurt shuffled over to lie against Blaine's chest.

"I'm sorry. I've lost most of my brain function – apparently all I've got left is the ability to make crude sexual puns" They were silent for a few minutes, revelling in the closeness they felt for each other, and then Blaine sighed. "We should get dressed. Your family will be home soon." Kurt shook his head.

"Don't want to. Comfy. Want to sleep." He snuggled closer to Blaine, who was tempted to just let Kurt sleep there, because he looked so adorable and content – but there was the issue of his family, specifically Burt and Finn, arriving at any moment. And Blaine appreciated having the use of all of his limbs.

"Come on, up. You'll thank me for this later." Kurt grumbled, but rolled away from Blaine, sat up and stretched his arms above his head. Blaine crawled over to him, wrapped his own arms around his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the point where his shoulder and neck joined. "I love you, you know." Kurt turned to Blaine, a delighted smile on his face.

"Blaine, shouldn't I be the one reassuring you? I'm the one that put my... _you know_... in your..." Kurt waved an embarrassed hand towards Blaine's lower back, flushing pink. It was incredibly endearing, Blaine thought, that not ten minutes ago Kurt had brought him to a mind-shattering orgasm, yet Kurt couldn't refer to it in conversation without blushing and stammering.

"You don't need to reassure me, it was amazing."

"I love you, too, nevertheless," Kurt said, standing up and pulling on a t-shirt and sweats.

"K-Kurt," Blaine spluttered. "You're not seriously going commando." Kurt raised his eyebrows teasingly and sauntered out of the bedroom, hips swaying.

* * *

><p>When Kurt drove to school the next morning, he was slightly disappointed to see that Blaine wasn't there, waiting for him. However, he cheered up when he saw that Mercedes was waiting by his usual parking spot. Getting out of the car, he went in for a hug.<p>

"Hey, Mercedes, this is a nice –" he cut off abruptly when he saw the look on her face, arms still spread wide and hanging awkwardly in the air – it was identical to the one she'd sported during the Tater Tots Debacle.

"Oh, _hell _to the no, don't drop the innocent act on me," she said, pointing a finger so close to Kurt's face that he had to cross his eyes just to focus on it.

"Come again?" Kurt asked, trying not to smirk at the sense of déjà vu that sentence brought as he lowered his arms.

"I can't believe you told Finn before you told me! Kurt, I'm your best friend!" Mercedes huffed, crossing her arms.

"Mercedes, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt said confusedly, grateful at least that she had removed her finger from the vicinity of his face.

"First you keep things from me, and now you're _lying_ to me? You've changed, Kurt Hummel." With that Mercedes stormed off, leaving Kurt standing alone in the middle of the parking lot.

"What the hell have I done?" He asked aloud to no one in particular. Deeming it a girl problem, he walked into the school, wondering where Blaine had disappeared to.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Blaine was driving to school, probably breaking a few speed limits in his fear of being late. Kurt had repeatedly told him, many times, that the teachers at McKinley genuinely didn't care about lateness, or even if their students turned up, yet Blaine still felt a twinge of terror and guilt at the thought of tardiness.<p>

He was seriously considering running the next red light – if it was safe for him to do so, because Kurt would _know_ if he'd done something risky – when his phone rang, forcing him to pull over to the side of the road anyway. The number came up as withheld – making it unlikely to be Kurt – but Blaine answered anyway.

"What?" He internally winced at his abrupt greeting, but as he was running late for school, he supposed he could be forgiven.

"What were you doing last night?" An old-fashioned British accented voice said. Blaine pulled the phone from his ear to stare at it in disbelief, before slowly bringing it back.

"Is this like one of those "What colour are your panties?" things? Because, even though I'm gay and therefore automatically stereotyped as being a girl, I feel I should inform you that I'm not wearing panties. Boxers, and they're navy."

"_Dude_!" A recognisable voice suddenly exclaimed down the phone; realising he had revealed his identity, the speaker coughed and, in the fake British accent, continued. "I mean, no, this is about your whereabouts last night."

"Sam, I know it's you."

"_Damn it_." Sam abruptly hung up, leaving Blaine confused and almost nostalgic for the relative sanity of Dalton. However, on the positive side, Blaine was now free to continue his madman-style driving to school.

* * *

><p>Santana, in Kurt's opinion, had always run on a different brain frequency to most people. However, Kurt had now become convinced that she was actually of a different species altogether.<p>

It started just before first lesson, when Kurt still hadn't found Blaine, and was getting pretty worried. It wasn't like Blaine to be late, for anything – so, naturally, he decided to ask around to see if anyone had seen his missing-in-action boyfriend. And the first person he'd happened across was Santana.

"Santana, I'm looking for Blaine, have you seen him anywhere?" He'd asked, quite innocently, in his opinion. However, that hadn't stopped Santana from practically shrieking, in the middle of the crowded hallway,

"_WANKY_!" Kurt blinked in shock – he had just been screamed at, after all – before realising that people were beginning to stare.

"Santana, this is kind of important," he said; he could practically _hear_ his own cheeks blushing.

"Oh, it's _important_, is it? It's _urgent_?" Santana replied, placing undue emphasis on seemingly random words.

"Santana, why are you speaking like that?"

"Like _what_? Do you prefer to be spoken to _differently_? Or do you prefer people to just stay _silent_?"

"Okay, Santana, I'm going to walk away now."

"Oh, _are_ you? Got more _important_ things to _attend_ to? Wanky, Hummel, _WANKY_!"

* * *

><p>When Blaine finally got into school, the hallways were almost empty. They would have been entirely empty if it hadn't been for Brittany, staring at her reflection in one of the many trophy cabinets.<p>

"Britt?" She turned to look at him, smiling beatifically.

"Hello, Blaine Warbler." He had long given up on attempting to teach New Directions his last name; they seemed intent on referring to him by 'Warbler', which wasn't helping Rachel to get over her belief that he was a spy.

"What're you doing out here?" He asked.

"I've forgotten where my classroom is. And I've got a present for you," she said abruptly, rummaging in her bag for a few minutes. Eventually, she pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper, and handed it over proudly.

"Um... Brittany, why have you drawn me two bananas?" Brittany looked at him like he was blind – or incredibly stupid.

"They're dolphins. I've broken my pencil, so I had to use yellow crayon. Did you know dolphins –"

"Are just gay sharks? Yes, Kurt told me," Blaine said, grateful that Kurt had spent an hour tutoring him on common Brittany-isms.

"Well, yes, but I was actually going to say that dolphins are one of a few species that mate for pleasure?" Blaine stayed silent, blinking in disbelief. "It's true." Brittany pointed to the bigger dolphin. "You see this cuddly looking dolphin? He likes sex because it makes him feel loved, warm, and cosy. But you see this dolphin?" She pointed to the smaller dolphin. "This dolphin likes sex because it makes _him_ feel good. He doesn't care about the other dolphin, he just wants hot dolphin sex. And if the cuddly dolphin's big shark friends find this out, they'll turn the sex-fiend dolphin into tuna. _Tuna_, Blaine." She smiled again, plucking the picture from Blaine's grasp. "Understand, Blaine?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see –" She skipped away – to where Blaine had no idea – and Blaine was left with the acute feeling that he had just misunderstood something very important.

* * *

><p>"Kurt!" Tina shouted, threading her way through desks to sit next to him. Kurt couldn't fight back the look of relief on his face – he'd noticed Santana eyeing the empty seat hungrily.<p>

"Oh, thank God, Tina, Santana and Mercedes have been acting _weird_ today, and I haven't even seen –" Tina was waving her hand impatiently.

"We need to band together, Kurt. We have a mission." _Oh, _ Kurt thought miserably. _Not Tina, too._

"I'm frightened to ask, but why? And what's the mission?" She leaned forward, an almost demonic gleam in her eyes.

"To quash the rumor about Asian guys."

"What rumor? Tina, what are you even talking about?" She nudged him in what Kurt guessed was supposed to be a playful manner; he nearly face planted the desk.

"You know! You're well versed on Asian guys now, after all."

"Tina, seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about." Tina sighed angrily.

"_Fine_, Kurt, if you want to be difficult." She stood up and flounced off to sit in another seat, leaving Santana to slink into the now available chair and whisper 'Wanky' in various languages and dialects throughout the lesson.

* * *

><p>All Blaine wanted was to say hello to his boyfriend – was that too much to ask? Apparently so, because he caught a brief glance of said boyfriend, but before he could run over and pick him up embarrassingly he had been grabbed by the Cheerios coach, and was being pulled through the hallways – further and further from Kurt.<p>

"Um, Coach? What have I done?" Coach Sylvester, however, seemed intent on ignoring any protests or pleas for safety, because she practically threw him into her office, shutting the door behind her.

"Have a seat, Hobbit." The majority of his mind was screaming at him to remain standing, because sitting would only provide her with even more of a height advantage, yet his legs had a mind of their own, and he found himself sitting, regardless. She nodded, satisfied, and started looking through some papers on her desk.

"Miss Sylvester? Coach? Am I in trouble?" Again she ignored him, instead slapping a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him. He looked at it curiously – it was a design for a chainsaw. But not just any chainsaw –

"Yes, Hairgel Hobbit, that chainsaw is five foot long, with more teeth than a shark. Do you know what would happen if that saw was to hit human flesh?" Blaine shook his head, utterly terrified. "Let's just say the unlucky victim wouldn't even have time to scream before they had lost an appendage. The Saw Sylvester can cut through any human appendage – bones, muscles, _appendages_" she looked at him pointedly. "As soon as it is being mass-produced, anybody who finds themselves on my bad side will have one of their limbs – of my choice – cut into little pieces. I shall then put these pieces into matchboxes and mail them, one piece at a time, to the victim on subsequent birthdays. Do I make myself clear, Anderson?"

"C-Crystal, ma'am."

"Then get the hell out of my office." Blaine fled, well aware that he had just been threatened – although for what, he had no idea.

* * *

><p><em>This is getting ridiculous<em>, Kurt thought exasperatedly as Quinn made a beeline for him in the library, where he had been intending to hide until Blaine rang him – he'd turned his phone off, so Kurt couldn't get hold of him.

"Kurt," Quinn whispered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Actually, Quinn, I'm really busy doing..." He looked down at the various sheets of paper that he had been absentmindedly doodling hearts and 'K+B' on. "Very important things," he said finally, shuffling the papers to hide the especially embarrassing drawing (it couldn't even be classed as a doodle, it was so detailed) of his and Blaine's wedding. There were accompanying color swatches.

"Please, Kurt? It's important." Kurt allowed himself, briefly, to hope that this wasn't more girl madness. That, maybe, Quinn had a genuine concern or problem, and he'd be able to have a sane conversation for the first time all day... "Are you happy?" She asked. Well. That was better than repetitive 'Wanky', at any rate.

"At the moment? Not really, because everyone's being really weird, and I haven't got any idea why, and I haven't seen Blaine all morning –"

"But other than that – you're happy, aren't you, Kurt?" She said urgently, her eyes wide.

"Um... Yes?" He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but the look she was giving him was scaring him slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Quinn," he said, more adamantly this time. "I haven't been this happy in... God, in _years_." Something in his face obviously convinced her, because she smiled warmly.

"Good." And almost as suddenly as she'd appeared she left, leaving Kurt feeling quite relieved – until he spotted the devilish eyes staring at him through the opposite bookshelf.

"Wan-_ky_!" Kurt had to hand it to Santana, he hadn't realised there were quite so many ways to say the word 'wanky'.

"Miss Lopez!" The librarian whisper-shouted, sounding scandalized. "This is a _library_ – and besides, that sort of language is not fitting a young lady." As she was escorted out of the library, Kurt was positive he heard Santana mutter 'I bet Kurt talks worse in-' but the rest was drowned out by the librarian's outraged shriek.

* * *

><p>After being kidnapped and manhandled into an empty room, a person begins to develop immunity to it – apparently, Blaine had become immune after the Sue had got her hands on him, so he wasn't too bothered when he was captured for the second time in one day.<p>

When Mike deposited him – literally, he had carried him over his shoulder – into the empty choir room, Puck was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, and Artie was staring blankly out of the window.

"What's wrong with them?" Blaine asked Mike, who shook his head sadly.

"It's the code."

"What code?" Blaine asked. Puck stopped pacing to look at Blaine with a panicked look on his face.

"Bros before hoes, dude!" He resumed pacing.

"What? I don't –"

"You and Kurt are an anomaly to the rule, Blaine," Artie said, still staring out of the window. "Originally, we were just going to make you the ho, because Kurt's been our bro for two years now. But now you're our bro, and you've _screwed_ up the code!" Puck nodded emphatically.

"Bros before bros doesn't make any sense!"

"So," Mike said reasonably. "I've come to a compromise. We are all going to fist bump you on a job well done, because you're our bro and you got lucky last night, and then we are going to give you a patriotic wedgie, because you had intercourse with our bro."

"You – you can't be _serious_." Apparently they were, because they had all started advancing on him with vaguely eager expressions. "Is this what you do to each other's girlfriends?" They stopped, looking scandalised.

"Of course not, dude," Puck exclaimed. "They're _girls_. However, you're not. If we ever had a girl bro, we'd do it to her boyfriend."

"You know, a lot of people stereotype gay couples by saying one of the pair has to be masculine, and the other has to be feminine. Can't we just say I'm the feminine one?" Artie laughed.

"Please, Anderson. We all know, if that were true, Kurt would have that down pat, being an honorary girl and all. Now, come on, take your fist pump and wedgie like a man."

* * *

><p>"Hummel?" Kurt turned rapidly on the spot, his eye twitching.<p>

"What? _What do you people want with me_?" Lauren blinked at him.

"Just wanted to tell you that your boyfriend is currently being hoisted up the flag pole by my boyfriend, the other Asian and the kid in the wheelchair, and I thought you might want to put a stop to it." Kurt blinked, not entirely sure he was hearing her correctly. "Hummel, your boyfriend's _ass_ is being hoisted up the flagpole. Go save him, before his ass gets split in two!" She suddenly started snorting with laughter, but Kurt was too busy playing the knight in shining Alexander McQueen to Blaine's damsel in hoisted distress to listen.

"_Puckerman_! _Chang_! _Abrams_!" A chorus of 'Oh, shit' was heard from the area by the flagpole as Kurt shrieked like a banshee. By the time he got there they were nowhere to be found, and his boyfriend was hanging halfway up the pole.

"Hi, honey," Kurt said, shielding his eyes against the sun and looking up at his boyfriend. Hearing Kurt's voice, Blaine looked around frantically, spotted Kurt and waved happily.

"Hi, Kurt! I feel like I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?"

"Blaine? Remember that talk we had about priorities? My feelings shouldn't be your priority at this moment. Oh, Miss Pillsbury? Miss Pillsbury!" Miss Pillsbury jumped slightly, looked around to see who was shouting her, and then ran over to the flagpole.

"Kurt! Blaine! Are you boys alright? Do I need to call the police?"

"What? No!" Blaine said quickly. "This wasn't bullying, this was an act of protective big-brotherhood. I'm fine, really."

"Don't listen to my boyfriend, Miss Pillsbury," Kurt said, glaring up at where Blaine was attempting to sway with the wind. "He's tragically deluded. We need to go get help before he kills himself." Kurt and Miss Pillsbury left Blaine – who was letting out whoops of delight – and headed into the school.

"We'll get Will – I mean, Mr Shue," Miss Pillsbury said, slowing slightly. "You know, Kurt, I've been wanting to have a conversation with you today, actually. I got some new pamphlets in –"

"Miss Pillsbury? I'm kind of in a hurry. My boyfriend is dangling from a flagpole by his underpants, and he's currently whooping with delight. Pamphlets are not my main concern." Miss Pillsbury nodded, quickening her pace.

"You're right, you're right. But please, make sure you come to me if you have any problems – _any_ problems." Kurt nodded vaguely, pondering why everybody seemed to be emphasising words that didn't really need emphasis.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, are you sure you're alright?" Mr Shue said, looking at Blaine as if he expected him to spontaneously combust at any moment.<p>

"Are you kidding? That was great!" Blaine said excitedly, his eyes shining with excitement. Kurt put a half-protective, half-restraining arm around his shoulders.

"Mr Shue, my boyfriend's mind has clearly been damaged. I think those involved should be made to clean the boys' toilets for the next year. With their own toothbrushes." Mr Shue winced at Kurt's graphic punishment.

"While I agree they should be punished, Blaine doesn't seem too concerned, and from what I can gather it was a mutual decision –"

"Mr Shue, he's clearly not in his right mind – what kind of person enjoys being hoisted into the air?" Mr Shue looked at Kurt thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure, Kurt – but while we're on the subject of enjoyment, there's something I want to discuss with you and Blaine –"

"It's okay, Mr Shue, I'll take it from here," Rachel marched into Mr Shue's office, wielding two thick folders and slamming them down onto Kurt and Blaine's laps. "My dads have provided me with plenty of information on the subject of gay sex, and –" The grin on Blaine's face slid off faster than melted butter, while Kurt almost fell off his chair in shock.

"W-what? _Rachel_!"

"What? It's common knowledge that you two are engaging in sexual relations now, and I think it's my duty, as the only child of two gay dads, to bestow my knowledge –"

"Is that why everyone's been acting so weird today?" Kurt said, horrified at the thought of _everyone_ knowing their business.

"People have been acting weird to you too?" Blaine said, looking at Kurt with wide, panicked eyes.

"Yeah! They've been trying to get me to join Asian appreciation clubs, or to admit that I'm psychologically scarred by something..." Blaine frowned.

"I've been getting threats and blackmail from literally everyone." Kurt frowned too, before he realised what had been going on all day.

"Oh. Oh, _hell_ no. Mr Shue, I need to call an emergency Glee meeting. Miss Pillsbury, could you come too? I have an announcement."

* * *

><p>"What's Coach Sylvester doing here?" Sam said, looking at where she was sat, on her own, to the side of the room.<p>

"Porcelain told me that the elves in Will's hair were all conspiring to start a fire, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to provide matches." True to her word, she waved a box of matches in the air.

"So, Kurt, you said there's something you wanted to address?" Kurt nodded, and stood up to face the Glee Club.

"I – wait, where's Finn?" There were various shrugs around the room. "No matter. Okay, everyone, first of all, you should know that what Blaine and I do in the bedroom should, in theory, be between ourselves. Now, I have no idea how you lot figured out what we were doing, and I don't want to know, but I think I should clear something up. All of you have either been treating me like I'm emotionally fragile, or you have been harassing my boyfriend – and I have a pretty good idea why. You do realise, guys, that, for this particular instance, _I_ was the one who topped, not Blaine, right?" The silence in the room went on for several minutes as every person assembled opened and closed their mouths wordlessly. Eventually –

"WANKY!"

"Dude, that screws the entire code twice over – what the hell do we do now?"

"I think I've drawn my dolphins wrong..."

"Do you still need my twenty-four page instruction manuals?"

"Kurt, I still don't understand _why you didn't immediately give me details_!"

"The Saw Sylvester is still being manufactured, Hobbit, don't look so hopeful."

"Get some, Hummel!"

"Does this mean we need to give Kurt a patriotic wedgie? I'm so confused!"

"No!" Blaine said, standing up to stand next to Kurt. "While we appreciate your concern for us, we are both more than capable of talking through any issues we may have like mature, responsible adults." There was a pause, and Kurt could see that some of New Directions seemed to be seriously struggling to process this concept.

"Who jumped who?"

"Santana, god damn it, shut _up_!"

* * *

><p>"What a day," Kurt said, collapsing on the couch. Blaine chuckled.<p>

"And here I was, thinking I could spend today making vague references to our amazing night last night." He moved close to Kurt's ear and whispered, his breath hot, "Care for a repeat performance?"

"No! No, no, no, no no no!" Finn suddenly ran in from the kitchen, a glass of milk he was holding sloshing on the carpet. "Not again, _please_!" Kurt stared at Finn, and then something clicked.

"Finn, _you_ told everyone!" Finn looked at Kurt like a guilty puppy.

"I didn't mean to! I was more than happy to let you two get on with it, I was playing music loudly so I couldn't really hear you, but then Rachel called, and you _know_ I'm not a good liar, and she thought I had another girl round when I said she couldn't come over, so I told her you were sleeping, and she said it was too early for you to sleep, and then one of you _screamed_, and she heard you, and she got really excited, hung up, and then... she must have told everyone. I didn't come into school today because I didn't want you to kill me when you found out..." Finn looked so upset and ashamed with himself that Kurt couldn't stay angry, even though he desperately wanted to, so he just rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Tell you what, Finn," Blaine said slyly. "Go out for an hour. That's how you can make it up to us." Finn took one look at the expression on Blaine's face before throwing on a coat (Kurt was pretty sure it was one of Carole's) and charging out of the house like a bull.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm incapable of writing smut. Or, rather, I've never tried. Maybe one day...<strong>


End file.
